


the certainty of hidden roots

by Dialux



Series: the memory of things becomes the reality of things [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aunt-Nephew Relationship, BAMF Women, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, POV Outsider, these two think findis is fucking BADASS and it is wonderful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28124868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dialux/pseuds/Dialux
Summary: When the sun rose after they passed the Helcaraxë, Aegnor had insisted to anyone who’d listen that Findis herself must have made it rise, lit by her song and her fury. None of them had been able to really refute it either. Who knew what Findis the Songstress was truly capable of?[Finrod is reborn in Valinor, but his aunt Findis is still missing.]
Relationships: Finarfin | Arafinwë & Findis, Finarfin | Arafinwë & Finrod Felagund | Findaráto
Series: the memory of things becomes the reality of things [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104989
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	the certainty of hidden roots

**Author's Note:**

> I did say that there were some conversations left! I'll be adding them as individual stories, I think, because they just keep being extended onwards and onwards and _onwards,_ instead of one big story like I initially wanted. Titles will all, as for the main story, come from Richard Jackson quotes. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy xxx

After Finrod is reborn, and asks after Findis, Arafinwë does elaborate in private:

Findis had left in the early hours after hearing of Fëanor’s death, riding her horse to the foothills of the Pelóri before letting it free. For many years, this had been all that Arafinwë knew, until he despaired and finally petitioned the Valar for further information- to which he had learned that Findis had then climbed Hyarmentir mountain, and meditated there for a night and a day and a night once more, before she sang a song to the stars. It had been Manwë who heard her, and Varda who saw her, and Irmo who had told Arafinwë of the song, for he had heard it as well and wondered at its beauty and grief.

“It could have driven us to despair if she had wished it,” he had told Arafinwë. “It could have shattered us into pieces with the depth of its beauty. Her grief was like a blade: it could have chopped us apart, if ever Findis daughter of Indis had wished it. But she used it not for that purpose.”

“No,” Finrod agrees, when his father relays the story to him. “Aunt Findis was never that kind of a person.”

After that, she had cut off her hair. It still shone on Hyarmentir’s summit, the stories went, golden and lending light to the mountain, brighter by far than any other save for Taniquetil itself. And then Findis had disappeared for good. 

“But she is not dead.”

“No,” says Arafinwë. “She is not dead. I have gotten that much out of Vairë, these past years- she has promised to tell me if ever Findis shows up in Mandos’ halls. I have petitioned the other Valar for aid in searching for her as well.”

“And still nothing?”

“At first they refused,” Arafinwë tells him. “At first they would have nothing to do with any of it. But they changed their mind when I kept at it. Anything to keep me out of Ilmarin!” The levity fades, and Arafinwë sighs. “Varda’s stars have not seen her, and Manwë does not know where she is. Oromë claims that she is not on any grounds of his, and Aulë claims that she is not on his grounds, and Ulmo claims she is not on his either. Even Yavanna has stated she is not to be found in her realms, nor any realms that she has ever touched.”

Finrod frowns. “So she is not in the air and she is not below the earth, and she is not under the stars and she is not close to the water. She is not in the forests, and she is not consuming food. But she is not dead either.” His face brightens, slowly. “This  _ is  _ a conundrum indeed, Father!”

“If anyone could find such a place and survive it,” says Arafinwë wryly, “it would be my sister.”

“I would like to go searching for her.”

Arafinwë hesitates for a moment, long enough for a thought- a terrible thought- to grow in Finrod’s mind. Then he looks up and sees Finrod’s face, and laughs.

“No, I would be glad to see Findis again,” he says. “Think not that I wish to avoid her! She is my sister: I would have her back, and I would greet her with every kindness under the sun. But also… she has been missing by her own choice, and Findis has never been very kind to those who wished to make her think or choose differently. And you have only now returned to me.”

“You think she would hurt me?” asks Finrod. “Aunt  _ Findis?” _

“No,” says Arafinwë, but he does not sound all that convincing. “Just: be careful. None of us know what she is capable of.”

“I never did understand why you and Uncle Fingolfin were always so worried about her,” says Finrod, stretching his legs out. 

He  _ has _ been wondering about this for many years now; not just him, but Fingon, too, and much of the family besides. Their mothers hadn’t known when Finrod had asked them, and the one time that Fingon had worked up the courage to ask Fingolfin, his uncle had simply refused to answer. 

But now, Arafinwë does not prevaricate.

“She’s powerful,” he says. “You remember the night that your grandfather was slain? The song that she sang…”

“Yes,” says Finrod. He does remember it: the grief, the power, the way Findis’ voice had sounded like a bell and a flute and a harp, all at once. “The first time she sang, I thought the stars too had stopped shining. It was like all was darkness. Then she sang again, a second time, and it was like a new fire had been birthed. And the third time, it was like all of the world had turned to fire, or perhaps that she would set the world on fire. It was a good thing Aunt Lalwen pulled her away!”

When the sun rose after they passed the Helcaraxë, Aegnor had insisted to anyone who’d listen that Findis herself must have made it rise, lit by her song and her fury. None of them had been able to really refute it either. Who knew what Findis the Songstress was truly capable of? 

“Yes, something like that. But that wasn’t the first time we’d known of Findis’ power. She dueled our father when he chose to go to Formenos, you know- our father!”

Finrod nearly chokes on his wine. He puts it down. “She  _ what?” _

“Not with steel or fists,” Arafinwë elaborates. “The old way, in the fashion of those who came to the Trees: with word and song and magic.”

“Who  _ won?” _

“Neither, I think,” says Arafinwë. “But she held her own against him. The magic that shone there in that study was… terrible. And it was frightening. And none of us would have dreamed of going against Finwë like that, none of us. But Findis never hesitated if she thought herself to be in the right: not for law and not for love.” He snorts. “She even got all the women of our homes to rebel! As if she alone wasn’t enough!”

“When Amarië broke Celegorm’s legs?”

“It was Findis’ idea,” says Arafinwë firmly. “Her idea and her plan and her execution. When Findis got angry- well. She could be cruel. Worse still than Fëanor, if it came down to it: you did not hear how she threatened him, when she entreated him after the incident with Nolo- Fingolfin.  _ Your wife and your family’s women shall never again lay eyes on you.  _ It was meant to hurt Fëanor, and she did not hesitate to use it against him, when she’d loved him so greatly. If her grief was as a blade, then her rage was an axe.” He lifts an eyebrow at Finrod meaningfully. “If you wish to go looking for her, I shall not stop you. But be careful. It is not an easy path that you will have to walk.”

“When has any of this been  _ easy?”  _ asks Finrod fatalistically, but then he laughs, and so does his father, and the shadow of their conversation passes easily enough.


End file.
